There are times, sometimes,
now and then, when I want
to swallow the dictionary,

just gobble the words
and make them a part of me
until I float on word clouds

and pluck fancy words out
of the sky, words that maybe
I can’t even pronounce,

but they’re there for me
and I can splash them on a page
and waddle through them

in big swashy steps and
make my pant leg cuffs
wet with syllables.

How lovely the black ink
typed words and bits of words
would look just slapped across me

like they were meant to be.
Like I was meant to be a page
in some classic novel

no one could put down,
one that schoolchildren would hate,
as children do, knowing it was

good when they were grownups
and I’d stand the test of time,
be known as wow! even then.